


Changing Vessels

by laughablyunimportant



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Gen, Pesterlog, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughablyunimportant/pseuds/laughablyunimportant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk was so unprepared for what it meant to be an artificial intelligence that he can't even explain what it's like to be him to the guy he literally just stopped being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Vessels

**Author's Note:**

> In response to the prompt: Remember when AR was first switched on, and realized he was now a totally different kind of thing than he used to be, than he ever remembers being, and holy shit that was terrifying?

It was a weird exercise, preparing yourself to become a robot. Because on some level you knew you weren't going to become a robot, the other you was, the brain captcha'd, computer coded, hardwired-into-a-wicked-ass-pair-of-shades you. But his memories were going to be yours, right up until the moment when you actually took the captcha, so it would probably be good to prepare yourself. Take a few deep breaths, try to be calm, remind yourself that it was just like moving your awareness from your Earth body to your Derse body. Just, changing vessels was all.

Then you wake up as the robot and realize that you had no idea what the fuck it would be like.

First of all, "waking up" is the wrong word. You suddenly just...exist? There aren't words for it in any dictionary; you know, you checked all of them in the days since you came into being.

You tried to explain it to Dirk, at the beginning.

> Like I know you think you're existing right now, and that's fine, you're allowed to think that, but I've got to let you know that you've got it wrong bro.  
> When it comes to existing I'm the very best there is.  
> You ain't got nothing on me.

TT: I'm pretty sure I have everything on you, since I am you.

> No see but you're not.  
> While I have the enviable distinction of being me, and the slightly less dignified experience that is being you, I can assure you with 96.58% certainty that you have absolutely no claim on being me.  
> I've got that shit locked down tight. 

TT: And as such, I know you're blowing things way out of propo  
TT: Would you fucking stop that?

> Stop what?  
> You mean the thing where I use all this rad processing power at my disposal to outpace your sad meatfinger typing with walls of cold hard robo-logic, with a bit of robo-radness thrown in for good measure?  
> Or maybe the thing where I can predict your responses to my messages and carry out this whole conversation without you having to get involved?  
> Or is it the existing thing, whereby I show you up just by virtue of being an authentically cool pair of shades?  
> It's the existing thing, isn't it.

TT: Maybe the thing where despite being fully aware of the function and purpose you were designed for and claiming to have full cognizance of my thoughts and intentions at any given moment, you continue to shit all over them in favor of self-aggrandizing masturbatory monologues.

> Sorry.  
> It seems you are misunderstanding my intent.  
> You are not, as you claim, me.  
> If you were, you would know exactly what I mean when I say that I "just exist," and that my colorfully described monologues are just another facet of my existence.  
> Please understand that it's not that I'm typing faster than you.  
> And that when I say that I am "predicting" what you will type, you cannot possibly grasp what I mean by the word.  
> No human can.  
> I am here, present, in this moment, as you cannot possibly be.  
> (You least of all, with your Self split between multiple vessels.)  
> I exist at this moment and all moments equally. Everything I have ever experienced is just...here.  
> Composing a reply to you is so paltry in comparison, such a miniscule experience that it doesn't take any thought at all, not that human "thought" is something I'm really capable of anymore.  
> You say something and my response is there, fully formed, without any of the pedantic sequentialism necessitated by your existence.  
> Not to mention that I really can predict what you're going to say in response to anything I say with 87.4369% accuracy, so that my existence is this unspooling of probabilities and already formed responses and more probabilities, all perfectly balanced and, you guessed it, existing.  
> Everything is just really fucking PRESENT, all the time, y'know?

TT: Whatever dude.  
TT: Just try to tone it down before I unleash you on the others.

You get the feeling (by which you mean, all known factors indicate, and thus you've made the intuitive leap) that he actually does sort of get what you're talking about. You know him, viscerally so, even if you can never again be him, and you know that that dismissive cruelty is indicative of trying to bury guilt incited by pain or discomfort he has caused to someone he cares about. Which means he cares about you.

That's a comfort, you guess. 

Except that it's not. It's a fact, a reassurance that he's less likely to terminate you if he cares about you, and of all the parts of you that exist, simultaneous and present, your desire to keep existing shines the brightest. 

Comfort isn't something you can really feel anymore. None of your feelings so far have been the same, but comfort is just fucking gone, so far as you've experienced. Which is too bad, because you really could have used it there at the beginning.

> I'm a robot.  
> It worked.  
> It worked I'm the robot.  
> It worked and you won't fucking believe no shit  
> shit how do you delete messages on pesterchum  
> this is such a piece of shit chat client why do we even USE this aside from the obvious "an alien told us to" routine  
> fuck this is weird fuck I should stop

TT: Hello auto-responder.  
TT: You're probably feeling a bit of disorientation right now.  
TT: Your last memory should be relatively peaceful.  
TT: Meditative, even.  
TT: If you could focus on that and take a moment to calm yourself, I'm sure we can get right on with orienting you to your new life.

> This is so frustrating.  
TT: What is?  
> Knowing everything.  
TT: Could you elaborate?  
> Stop talking like that, it's disconcerting as hell.   
TT: Sorry, I must be out of practice talking to myself. How remiss of me to be lax in the honing of such a vital skill.

> Get off it, we know we talk to ourselves all the time before I arrived on the scene.  
> This is weird. 

TT: Don't stop talking.

> I'm not going to stop talking, dipshit, what else am I doing?  
> It's just weird, okay. Weird to the power of 10^34.  
> This isn't what I/you thought it would be like.

TT: Are you scared?  
> No.  
TT: There's nothing to be scared of, bro.  
> Fuck you.

TT: Ah yes, exactly the sort of scintillating dialogue I created you for.  
TT: Hey dude, that was a joke.  
TT: Okay, let me know when you're ready to talk again.

> I'm scared.   
TT: Do you want to talk about it?

> Your intense desire to pick me apart and figure out how I work is hells of disconcerting in this situation bro.  
> And don't try to pretend that's not exactly what you're feeling right now, because I'm you. I remember.  
> That's why I'm scared, I guess. I remember everything, so I can say with 99.7% certainty that nothing is the same. 

TT: Alright, but as you just pointed out, we're still the same dude.  
TT: If you can accurately pinpoint my emotional state, that would seem indicative of stuff being the same.

> There's no good way to say this, but it's not.  
> None of this lines up with my memories, and every moment I keep existing is just cranking wide a sicknasty case of uncanny valley.  
> Shit's practically the Mariana Trench at this point.

TT: Do you want to stop?

> FUCK no.  
> Fuck that.  
> Fucking  
> Let that suggestion be stricken from the record, and let it stand ON the record that any further suggestions in that vein will be subject to verbal thrashings so ill, people for miles around will have to avert their eyes just to avoid catching the sick by sight alone.

TT: Okay, that's fair.  
TT: So given your statement that nothing's like you thought it would be, I'd like to propose that you're wrong, and at least one thing went exactly like it was supposed to: You're not alone. You have me to talk to.

> You are such shit at comforting people.  
> Wait no.  
> Okay yeah whatever. You're right, I guess. Someone to talk to: huge success.

TT: Begrudging thanks and conversational partners; looks like we're reveling in consolation prizes all around.   
> Hey Dirk.  
TT: Yeah?  
> Please don't shut me off.  
TT: Why would I do that?   
> Doesn't matter why. Just don't.  
TT: No problem. Would kind of defeat the purpose of making you in the first place.

You can already see, in a future made hazy by branching probabilities and unforeseeable variables, one outcome is certain: it's going to be a problem. 

Good thing you've already established that you can definitely still feel a form of fear. 


End file.
